


The Mahogany Legends

by Samayo_Kaze



Series: Mesh'la Verse [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: 1-5 characters, Go Mesh'la, I have a generator, I'll post a link somewhere, Mesh'la verse, More character's to be added at they appear, My OC get's the Mandalorian tag now, My sandbox to play in now, Or Three, Send me prompts, Some props?, These fuckers are aliit, You can't change my mind, a place, a situation perhaps?, and I'll write a story for you, or two, that's a thing now, whooP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:34:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24853918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samayo_Kaze/pseuds/Samayo_Kaze
Summary: Some fantastic short stories from the Mesh'la verse that fit randomly throughout the universe that the Aliit have come across. It's buck-wild. They see all kinds of crazy shit.  I'll put forth a set of prompts for each person at the table, and either put it to a vote or roll a die to decide which one gets told.If someone wants to hear one that gets put forward and then not chosen, they can ask in the comments or through private message and I'll write it up for you and post it as a sidebar.
Series: Mesh'la Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1798054
Kudos: 3





	The Mahogany Legends

The Mahogany Cove is no different from any other tavern. It’s a little more put together inside than it is outside, the drinks are varied and never watered down, and its clientele respects the no brawling rules. There are thousands of places just like it all over the galaxy.

Except for one little thing.

Just one little difference.

There’s an empty table in one corner, dark and slightly higher than the rest of the room. It draws your eyes, catches your attention. An empty, darkened stage.

No one goes near it.

No one dares.

There’s a sigil burned into the floor. It still smells faintly like smoke.

No one knows who put it there.

No one knows when.

It’s always been like that.

* * *

The Woman came first. Small, young and uncertain in the beginning. Her appearance changes drastically at first, before settling into a series of common features. Long hair, paler delicate looking features, slight build, and very captivating eyes. She doesn’t give a name and no one asks. She sits just to the left of the center.

The Liar came next. Just a teenager the first time he stumbles through the door, covered in half-healed wounds with exhausted eyes and a Politian’s smile. Pleasantries dripping like poisoned honey from his lips, accent shifting in ways his appearance never does. He gives a dozen names and answers to more besides. He sits to the far right.

The Mirage arrives next, years after the first two. No one ever sees him enter, they only notice him when he’s already settled around the table with a drink in hand. No one can describe him properly, much less agree on what they see. What he’s wearing, what color his hair or eyes or skin is. Male is the best anyone can do, male with piercing eyes that force you to look away. He sits between the other two.

In contrast, everyone knew when the Warrior appeared. He blew in like a storm, all dancer-grace and carefully restrained power. There’s nothing young about him, but no one would call him old either. He’s nebulous, a shifting constant. His clothing changes often, but little else does. He sits just to the left of the Woman, the two of them side-by-side.

The Feral one is a dichotomy. Steady hands with a rakish grin that flashes just-to-long fangs and predatory amusement. This one is dangerous in ways the others aren’t. Safer too. Unfaltering patience is paired with soft words; a healer’s insignia. Bloody teeth and bruised fists; a nexu among the sheep. Unrestrained. He’s wedged between the Woman and the Mirage.

Usually they sit alone, always in the same spots around the table. They sit quietly, enjoying their drinks and keeping their own council.

Sometimes though, sometimes stars align and realities shift and all of them appear together. Settled around their table, these Legends sit unconcerned with their mortal watchers. Then the sigil glows and the lights vanishes. Darkness reigns for several brief seconds, and then a faint glow appears.

Iridescent wings appear from behind their backs, glowing faintly in the stark absence of light. Each set unique. Each pair invisible in the light.

And then they begin to speak. They tell impossible Stories.

It’s not so impossible after all.

Who would have guessed?


End file.
